


a winter's map

by Alephyr



Series: DeathberryPrompts [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alephyr/pseuds/Alephyr
Summary: he doesn't have to imprint a map alone or ever be "lost"—word only used for unknown destination or comfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted and submitted for deathberryprompts.tumblr's weekly prompt "paradise" on my tumblog back in early Jan. I forgot to post it to ao3 for a while.

 

( why oh why  
   does the moon  
   illuminate the darkness in silence? )

 

through the howling wind, he marches on, hand over his squinting eyes, ears red from the freeze.  unmistakably, he has lost his way home in the roaring blizzard.

yet the moon that tries to hide thyself watches on.

.

as he stops under the snow encased streetlamp, the bitter howling wind carries an off sound to his numb cold ear.  he whisks his hopeful worn eyes to the path.

.

he marches on against the snowy waves, his tracks crisp and deep in hardened ice snow, leaving an earthly map behind.  he looks up.

 

( light up, light up  
  even if you cannot hear my voice )

 

a white figure encased in sparkling snow in the distance glides slowly further away.  with a sharp, painful intake of cold breath, a numb call is ripped apart by the winds into tatters before it could reach.

he sees the side of her head disperse into snowflakes ‘til she was completely gone, the scattering snow kissing his face in clusters.

standing there in disbelief, he exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

 

( why oh why  
  at the end of a longing of what’s separated  
  it scatters? )

 

from the cold-ridden strong winds, the ends of woven cloth smack him right in his dazed face.  a thick, red scarf sways from a branch, brushing away the dripping snowflakes off his flushed, bewildered face.

as he loosens it, he catches a glimpse of near crisp sandal footprints in front of his feet, on the other side of the branch, the falling snow slowly covering the prints.

if there were more tracks leading to or of turning back, he cannot see through the whiteout to paradise.

under his breath, he blows a bitter puff of air that hurts his nostrils, wraps the scarf around his neck, and he finds his way home.

.

_nice scarf, where did you buy it_ , they ask; he shakes the winter’s mess out of his orange hair.

_it was a gift_ , he walks to the window with the scarf, no markings found of who it belonged to or any brand label.

_then why are you crying_ , they were surely mistaken.

he peers out, sees a cluster of snow in a shape of a small figure wading away and disappearing in the heavy snowfall.

_i’m not, it was the...snow_.


End file.
